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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936532">Silver Grass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquise_angelica/pseuds/marquise_angelica'>marquise_angelica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Devil May Cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Demons, Established Relationship, F/M, Home, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquise_angelica/pseuds/marquise_angelica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is about why Sparda chose this hair color for himself</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Silver Grass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/731367">Серебряная трава</a> by Маркиза Анжелика.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The original of this work exists in Russian, written by myself.<br/>Translation is also has made by myself.<br/>Artfic, in some way, on this: https://twitter.com/alexdnz/status/1226286188169920512</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eva sits down beside him, runs his silver hair through the fingers. Iridescent, hard, smooth. Suddenly touches his ear with the pads – and immediately glances at his face.<br/>
Sparda frowns into the book, but it doesn't scare her from a long time ago.</p><p>Fingers slide along his temple, smooth cheek, chin, while her demon seeks to maintain stern indifference. She reaches up to his neck, wraps arms around shoulders and enjoys the warmth, catching short moments of peace.</p><p>Children are in the next room – and, fortunately, while they are sleeping. Both. A rare piece of luck. Demon's children are restless and give almost no relaxation. Needed to feed, lull them, just shake in your arms... While they are too small to really be different. Both, vying with each other, need motherly warmth and love. Both do not reject their father's embrace. But they don't often sleep in a crib at the same time, quietly dragging each other by the edge of sliders and blankets, even in a dream.</p><p>Eva quietly glances toward the bedroom. So far, the children live there, but by the age of one year they will move to their nursery. So small, but already as if having cognized the essence of the universe and therefore completely gray-haired.</p><p>She runs her fingertips into Sparda's hair again and asks gently:</p><p>"Do not think that I mind... I just wonder. You could have chosen any appearance. Why does your hair look gray?"</p><p>Sparda looks at her. A smile shimmers in light blue eyes. The pupils slide in the same direction, towards the bedroom, and back. He must have realized who she was thinking of.</p><p>“Ash,” he says, and puts the book down. "I did not choose it by chance. To you, people, the underworld seems monstrous, you call it hell. Everything is correct. But there is also something that I miss."</p><p>He runs his hand through his hair, ruffles the hairstyle. The look grows cloudy, as if rushing into the past.</p><p>"Demons are created immediately and completely. We can change ourselves at will, transform as we like, but there are no small children among us. Once upon a time, however, we were all inexperienced and impressionable."</p><p>"And you too?" Eva smiles. "When did you appear, though?"</p><p>"That was a long time ago."</p><p>Sigh. Pause. A heavy hand gets a rest on her shoulders.</p><p>“I loved wandering the battlefields. Through my own and through others ones. To read in the footsteps of mistakes and mistakes... The grass isn't immediately trampled. She is tenacious and crumples in different ways. But a dozen fights between demons – and the earth becomes bare... There is no sun in hell, so the grass there is ashy. Rigid, elastic, tickles the palms when you walk through and guide your palms along the spikes. I even had a game: to defend it from opponents in battle. I absorbed the strength of the defeated, but the grass also got a little energy. In my favorite place, she sometimes rose above my height."</p><p>“It must have been beautiful,” Eva says.</p><p>She looks around relaxedly, her cheek basking on Sparda's chest. The house is a little cool and smells like apples: a pie is being baked in the kitchen. Somewhere above, ceilings creak: not mice, of course. The wood reacts to the weather. Autumn is approaching.</p><p>Outside the window, on the street, the air at dusk is almost blue. And at home – soft and light.</p><p>"I never found out what it is and where it comes from," again trembles in his chest. Eva closes her eyes. "And then there was no time... The day came, and I got fought with the legions of Mundus. They were merciless. The ground beneath them blackened with blood. But I was stronger. Already at the portal, I turned around for the last time – and noticed that this ash grass was again climbing out of the ground. I was amazed. And then I sealed the gates – and my human form took the appearance to which you are so accustomed."</p><p>Exhale. Inhale. He doesn't speak anymore – he is waiting for her answer.</p><p>Eva opens her eyes – and passes the nearest lock through her fingers again.</p><p>“More like silver than ash,” she replies.</p><p>In fact, the shade of his hair – is the most unusual shade she has ever encountered in her life. No analogy is perfect here. But the comparison with ash makes you think about battles, about fear... about the demon world, which sometimes seems to be trying to reach her. On rare nights, when she wakes up at night – and finds herself alone. She touches the bed, sighs – and looks hopefully out the window.</p><p>Sparda returns quickly, not letting her get bored, and lies back. His hair is damp, his skin smells like shower gel, but the barely noticeable hint of... something hellish disturbs her anyway – subconsciously.</p><p>He protects the family.</p><p>And silver is peace, security, human life. Sparda has a lot of silver and a lot of gold; they live in a large house, built to his liking, and do not lack anything. Her husband embodies greatness and restraint. He is worthy of everything he has. And she tries to match. Usually it works. The townspeople treat them like a family from the Middle Ages – in a positive sense. Some even seem to bow, meeting them along the way. They must be feeling an aura of strength. He emanates something special, even if you don't think, don't know who he is like…</p><p>"As you wish. Let it be silver", Sparda answers her comparison, and Eva smiles from the warmth in his quiet voice.</p><p>No, her self-control is useless when they are alone. Her demon evokes so much love and tenderness in her that it is impossible to hide them in herself.</p><p>“Call it what you like,” he continues.</p><p>Once again, for a second, she snuggles up to him, enjoying the fragile calm in her chest, feels insanely, infinitely happy – and gets up: a pie is waiting in the kitchen. Sparda loves apples. This seems pretty metaphorical to her.</p><p>But she will ask him about this next time.</p>
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